


Four Times Qrow Turned Down a Good Luck Kiss, and One Time He Didn't

by Afoolforatook



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fluff, M/M, but nothing terribly uncommon for a huntsman, fair game, he's fine, just scared poor Qrow, not directly but there's an injury that's similar in certain ways, not nearly as severe, possible ep 12 warning?, still not just a minor injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Afoolforatook/pseuds/Afoolforatook
Summary: @Tinglecannon made a post the other day about the wasted potential of Clover never making a "Kiss for good luck" joke. And I got a little carried away because OF COURSE HE WOULD THE UTTER DORK.What the title says.Disclaimer: Looking back at the injury scene for Clover I'm realizing it could hit a little close to home, as it's vaguely similar to events from Ep12 as far as the actual injury goes. But, while not minor, it's not life-threatening and he's 100% fine, he just scared Qrow.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 35
Kudos: 157





	Four Times Qrow Turned Down a Good Luck Kiss, and One Time He Didn't

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A series of bad pick up lines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389825) by [Tinglecannon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinglecannon/pseuds/Tinglecannon). 



Okay, so the first time wasn’t exactly an offer. Clover had smiled at Qrow from across the manta and winked, blowing a kiss in Qrow’s direction, before he flipped out into the air with a flourish. 

Qrow barely caught him call out as he jumped. 

“Wish me luck!”

Qrow may have stumbled out of the ship a little more than jumped, and he’d _never_ admit it. 

\-----------

The next time was more of a tease. 

They’d been playing cards in the back of the transport and, like usual, Clover had been sweeping the floor with Qrow, who was playfully (and maybe a little genuinely?) annoyed. Clover laughed as he started to reshuffle the deck, the older man huffing at his most recent loss. 

“Y’know? A good luck kiss might help even the playing field a bit. I do like keeping it a fair game after all.” Clover beamed at Qrow, a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips. 

It was an absolutely paralyzing look. Not fair in the slightest.

Qrow stared back at him, Clover noticing the flush rise in his cheeks, which only made him smile wider. 

“I’d make that sacrifice.” He drawled, leaning a little further across the table than usual to hand Qrow his cards. 

Qrow blinked, scrunching his eyes closed for a moment (Clover couldn’t help but think how utterly adorable _that_ was) before setting his expression into a scowl, and snatching the cards from Clover. Their fingertips grazed ever so slightly and sent a trail of electricity up each of their arms. 

“Screw you, Ebi. I can manage on my own.” He growled, never meeting Clover’s eyes, the flush having now reached the back of his neck and ears. 

Clover would have worried he went too far, or struck a nerve, except there was no bite in Qrow’s voice. He was barely holding back a smile. 

Cute. How was this grumpy old man so effortlessly cute? Clover had been right, this game was definitely not set up to be fair. 

\----------

The third time was standing outside the Academy, Clover about to head out on a solo supply run. The rest of the Ops and the kids were busy training, and Qrow had still not fully recovered his aura from an impromptu battle with a small pack of sabyrs that morning. 

Clover still didn’t understand _why_ or _how_ Qrow had been out past the wall by himself that early in the morning, but it had turned out to be good luck for the two teens who’d thought it’d be fun to sneak past the wall on a dare. Qrow had been juggling the grimm and the scared kids and taken a hard hit at the exact moment he sliced through the last sabyr, sending him at full force into a section of the wall and shattering his aura. 

So, Clover was taking a transport on his own. No big deal, just a simple supply run. He’d managed it alone dozens of times before, back when they’d had fewer idle hands on deck. 

He’d gone to check on Qrow before he left and the other man had decided to walk with him out to the transport. 

They paused beside the vehicle and there was a moment of awkward silence before Clover leaned a little closer into Qrow’s personal space, a mischievous glint in that stunning teal. 

“A quick kiss for good luck?”

Qrow didn’t know _how_ he managed to not audibly gulp, but he did. 

“You’re the one going on the solo mission here, Boy Scout. You’ll need to keep all the luck you’ve got.” He said, smirking, pretending the heat of a flush on his cheeks wasn’t betraying him.

Clover seemed to wilt for just a moment, before laughing and turning to climb into the truck. He gestured with a playful, nonchalant wave and called back over his shoulder to Qrow as he pulled away. 

“Right, sorry. Forgot how ~shy~ the famous Qrow Branwen can be.” The teasing jab dripped with tenderness as Clover drove off. 

Qrow stood there, mouth bobbing stupidly, for just a moment before - wishing he could just sink down into the snow where he stood - he heard an eruption of laughter behind him. He turned to glare at his group of, frankly incredibly frustrating, kids, who were all gathered around a wall further up the main entryway. 

“Hush. I mean it. Not even a word from a single one of you.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Shouldn’t you still be training with the rest of the Ops anyway?”

Yang held up a juice box and her grin was dangerously knowing. 

“Snack break.” She said matter of factly.

“Seems like you were on one too, old man. Or rather, Clover was _wanting_ one.” Nora practically shouted, loud enough to make Qrow look around them for other Atlas personnel nearby, now thoroughly embarrassed. 

“Hate. I. Hate. Teenagers.” He grumbled as he pushed past them, heading back to his own room, where he could at least be flustered for the next hour or so in some gods damned peace. 

\------

The fourth time was a little different. A recent mission had gone south. Everyone was alright, aside from a few bruises and scrapes, but there’d been tactical errors made, holes in defenses missed. And though it was no single person’s fault, Clover was the leader of the mission, of the Ace Ops, and that meant that he was the one who’d have to explain to Ironwood, and absorb the initial backlash. 

He looked more disappointed than anything as he and Qrow walked towards Ironwood’s office. As they came to a stop outside the door, Clover chuckled and turned to Qrow, grinning apprehensively. 

“Hah…. Don’t suppose I could get that good luck kiss now, huh?”

Qrow paused, seemingly thinking, before ignoring the question and reaching into his vest pocket, pulling out a small silver and green charm. 

“So...this must have gotten knocked off in all the fuss earlier, and I thought you might miss it… so, I managed to snag it before we took off.” 

That was a lie. He’d noticed it glinting on the ground as he helped the kids into a transport van, but Yang seemed like she might have a bruised, if not broken, rib and that was his main priority at the time. After he was assured that his kids were all alright, he’d gone back out to retrieve the pin. Gotten a bird’s eye view; much more adept at picking up on a tiny shine between cobblestones. 

Clover’s eyes went wide, looking down at the empty spot where his pin usually sat. How could he have missed that? How _couldn't_ he have missed it, actually?

Qrow fiddled with the pin for a moment, both of them feeling the tension, knowing that Clover was about to head into a very _not fun_ meeting. 

Qrow laughed lightly - a nervous, but deep, resonating chuckle that sent warm tendrils of ease down Clover’s spine - and glanced towards the door then back at Clover.

“And brothers know you _are_ gonna need all the luck you can get in there…” He mused, thoughtfully.

He smiled up at the Ace Operative then, and Clover saw a flicker of something mischievous in his eyes. 

“So, yeah, I’ll humor you….” He paused for a split second before lifting the metal to his lips and giving it a gentle peck. Then, with a sharp flick of his thumb, he tossed it to Clover. 

“Good luck, Cloves.” Qrow said, smugly, starting to turn away. 

That is, until he saw that he’d completely misjudged his motion, and the pin was arcing far right, way past Clover. Clover managed to shift his balance and reach out to catch it - stretching out on his tiptoes - without losing his balance. He recovered and looked, wide eyed, back at Qrow, a heavy blush inking his cheeks. 

But Qrow had turned on a dime as soon as he saw Clover catch the pin, now blushing for an entirely separate reason, curling in on himself embarrassedly as he retreated; desperate to preserve his last shred of dignity in the moment. Why’d the damn show off have to rub off on him like that, when Qrow knew he couldn’t pull that kind of smooth shit off?

Clover blinked and fumbled to clip the pin back onto his uniform. Qrow was just able to hear his gentle, and if he didn’t know better; shy, call. 

“Thank you, Qrow.”

\------

The fifth time didn’t come until a couple months later. 

The threat of Salem’s imminent appearance had loomed over Atlas, figuratively for the time being, for a few weeks. Grimm attacks had grown in size and frequency, and it seemed like everywhere they turned there was another of Salem’s underlings lurking in the shadows. 

It had happened outside the walls, with Qrow and the Ace Ops having been on a scouting mission. Their transport had crapped out on them and they’d been forced to retreat into a small cave nearby, waiting for another truck to come get them. 

Everything had been fine, until, out of nowhere, a group of centinels had emerged from further within the cave. The team had gotten separated and Qrow had just sliced through the last grimm, with the help of Marrow’s Stay, when he heard Clover scream. He’d collapsed Harbinger into it’s sword form and took off running, coming into view of the rest of the team right as Elm was obliterating one final centinel with Timber. As the ash settled, Qrow saw what the creature had had pinned to the ground under it when Elm had hit it. 

Clover. 

Qrow sheathed Harbinger in what felt, all at once, like record time and slow motion, and rushed forward, sliding on his knees the last few feet, to his partner. 

“Clover!?” 

He froze as he saw the growing pool of blood over Clover’s left shoulder, terrifyingly close to his heart. 

Clover coughed and smiled up at him weakly, thumbing at his pin with a laugh, which only brought on another pained cough and sharp intake of breath.

“All good! Just...just a _slight_ stab. Bounced right off hitting anything major. Good thing you got my charm back, huh? Lucky me.” His voice was strained, and ironically, even more so, as he tried to laugh to cover it. 

He held up a shaky thumbs up, trying to hide his cringe of pain as he shifted.

Qrow stared at him in shock, and fear, and anger, before pulling out his scroll and swiping frantically until he saw Clover’s aura monitor. 

Yellow. A very _orangey_ yellow. But still _yellow_. Not red. Not gone. Yellow. 

Only Clover Ebi could practically have a hole clear through his shoulder, mere centimeters from his heart, and not even have his aura break. 

He’d be fine. As long as that damned transport got there. 

Qrow glowered down at Clover as he noticed him start to try to sit up. 

“Don’t you dare. Now is _not_ the time to push your luck, Ebi.” He said it coldly. His voice hard, to keep from wavering. 

He pushed up and turned away, looking to the rest of Clover’s team. 

“You all keep an eye on him, get pressure on it to slow the bleeding, and then keep him still. I don’t care about what military rank bullshit he tries to pull. He stays _right. There_. I’m going to wait outside and make sure the damn recovery team doesn’t miss us in here.” His voice was gruff, tempered.

Qrow stalked off and Clover, turning his head (with a sharp jolt of pain) to watch him go, noticed the whites of his knuckles as his fists clenched at his sides. 

For once Qrow was happy to stand in the cold for the ten minutes it took for the transport to arrive. It made it so that the cold air around him melded with, hid, the familiar cold, sick, dizziness that had pitted into his stomach as soon as he saw Clover lying there. 

They’d gotten back to Atlas safely and Qrow had watched Clover get wheeled into the infirmary. He’d subtly checked his aura monitor, relieved to see it steady. Clover would be fine. 

The doctor went on and on about how lucky a hit it was; clean, miraculously missing any vital muscles or tendons or nerves or arteries. It’d just hurt like a bitch for a while. And, even with aura, it’d need a good bit of time to heal, and likely some minimal physical therapy. Nothing uncommonly bad for a career huntsman. 

Clover had been asleep, knocked out on painkillers, when Qrow was finally able to see him. 

Qrow stared at his partner silently for a while before sighing and leaving. He walked back out into the cold and stared up into the dark Solitas night. The chill reminded him of that pitting cold nausea that had washed over him in the cave. 

He knew that feeling. That fear. What it meant. Why it lingered and still seemed to, even hours later, drip from his bones far too easily. He couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

He spent the rest of the night thinking about that familiar terror, and the accompanying familiar warmth as he watched Clover’s aura slowly recover. Thinking about what he was going to do about it. 

A nurse might have noticed a single crow curled up on the windowsill each night until Clover was discharged. 

Clover had taken only around a month to recover nearly fully. Most people would have likely needed a couple of months and physical therapy but, of course, the walking miracle was practically back to normal in no time. But he was still stiff, sore, and his doctor hadn’t okayed him for anything more than light daily training yet. 

And yet, Clover was insistent on going with Qrow on this small recon mission. It shouldn’t be dangerous, but Qrow seemed dead set against Clover taking that chance. 

He’d been headed out when he saw Clover waiting patiently for him at the entrance. Qrow had muttered something to himself about stubborn, cocky, brats and grabbed Clover by his good wrist, before angrily dragging him back to the Ace Ops’ quarters. 

He’d stared at Clover, arms crossed and face set in a hard glare, until the younger man finally gave in and keyed into his room. 

Clover grinned back at Qrow and, with a flourish of his good arm, motioned him in. Qrow didn’t move, waiting for Clover to enter instead, before finally following, leaving the door open behind him. Clover stood awkwardly in the middle of his room, before looking back at Qrow and painting on a cocky smile, teasing.

“Gosh, Qrow. You could at least buy a guy din-”

“Clover you are _not_ coming with me! I’m not arguing with you about this.” His voice was concrete, low, not playing around in the slightest.

“Qrow, I’m fine! The doctor said I just needed to not put too much stress on my shoulder, and I can use Kingfisher one handed. I’m not-”

“Clover!” 

It was the sound, practically a growl, in Qrow’s voice that stopped Clover. He watched as the older man strolled over towards him and firmly, but gently, dropped his hand on Clover’s bandaged left shoulder. 

Qrow raised an eyebrow knowingly at the noticeable wince the pressure elicited from his partner.

“Since when are _you_ so eager to be reckless, Mr. Highly Trained Atlas Specialist? Mr. Leader of an Elite Team of Atlas’ Finest?” He said, practically through gritted teeth. 

Qrow paused, sighing, and his expression softened slightly, but still held steadfast. 

“You’re cocky sometimes, but you’re not an idiot, Clover. Stop acting like it.”

The two men stared at each other in silence for a moment before Clover finally deflated some, dropping his jovial air. 

“I...I don’t want you going alone.” He forced out. 

“Not now. I know it’s just recon, but, with Salem…” His voice was quieter than Qrow was used to. He was steady, sure, confident in his words, but still slightly apprehensive to actually say them right then. 

Qrow still hadn’t told him, shown him, why exactly he was going on these solo recon missions. Why he was the _only_ one who could go on them. He’d been meaning to, he really had, he just never found the right time, what with Clover’s injury and the chaos of the last month. He swore to himself that he would when he got back. 

Qrow moved his hand from Clover’s sore shoulder, and placed it on his own hip, thinking for a moment. Finally he perked up and the grin that spread across his face made Clover a very strange mixture of nervous and warmly flustered.

“I’ll compromise with you, Shamrock.”

Before Clover could ask for clarification, Qrow was pressed to his chest, pulling the taller man closer by the waist with one hand and steadying himself on his good upper arm with the other. 

Then there was the warm pressure of Qrow’s lips against his. The prickle of his breath on Clover’s skin. And it was so soft. So kind and tender, almost hesitant. 

But only for a moment before Qrow surged up again, fully confident in his action now, and deepened it. 

Clover couldn’t react. He was frozen in place. His good hand uselessly flexed at Qrow’s side, eventually curling, tentatively, over the other man’s slender hip. 

Finally Qrow pulled away, looking Clover in the eye and grinning proudly at the shock still on his face, the flush in his cheeks and his slightly swollen red lips. He patted his cheek affectionately, teasingly, and backed away. 

“A kiss for good luck, right?” Qrow murmured softly, proudly.

“You have _GOT_ to be kidding me!” A beyond frustrated voice boomed from behind them.

Qrow was the only one to turn to look at the exasperated Marrow standing in the doorway, having brought Clover a stack of reports Ironwood had asked him to look at while he was recovering. 

Clover just stood there, still blinking down at Qrow. 

Marrow sighed and walked in, dropping the papers on the desk unceremoniously, before crossing his arms and looking at his leader, and then fixing his glare on Qrow. 

“Well, at least now it’s out there. And we can stop watching him pine over you constantly. I swear, you two old men have been worse than the actual lovesick teenagers I’ve been surrounded by for months. And they’ve been _bad_.”

Qrow laughed abashedly, now more than a little embarrassed at hearing how obvious they’d apparently been to everyone but each other. 

Clover still hadn’t moved. 

“And now it seems you have actually _broken_ my boss, Qrow. Thanks for that.”

“Well… at least this way I know he’s not going to try to follow me.” Qrow huffed, looking over his shoulder at Clover’s frozen form.

He hesitated for a moment, looking back apologetically at Marrow, before moving back to Clover. 

“Come one. Get some rest, _my_ Lucky Charm.” He said it pointedly, his voice courser, with more of a tease to it than how he usually said the playful nickname. 

And he knew it was a little cruel; the new tone he lent to it with just the addition of those two simple letters. But he was enjoying himself too much - enjoying that flustered expression on _Clover's_ face for once instead of his own too much - to care. 

He pressed a breath of a kiss to Clover’s cheek and started to turn him around and push him back towards his bed. 

But Clover stopped him, his hand flying to the nape of Qrow’s neck and pulling him close again, into an almost desperate, heartstopping, kiss. 

Now Qrow was the one who didn’t move, surprised not by the action itself but the intensity. Finally Clover let him go and rested his forehead against Qrow’s, speaking with an exasperated, winded, laugh. 

“I’d give you every bit of it if I could.”

“Annnnnd goodbye! I’m leaving now! Goodbye! At least shut the door the next time!” Marrow shouted, throwing his hands up as he turned and fled from the room, exasperated, underlining his last word with a bang as he yanked the door shut with his foot. 

They both watched him leave and then turned back to each other, bursting out in laughter. 

Clover smiled down at Qrow, pulling him close by the waist once more. 

“Now, I know what I said before about dinner, but…..” He teased lightly.

Qrow rolled his eyes and slipped out of Clover’s grip (which he was sure he was only actually able to do due to the fact that Clover was down an arm). 

“You really are worse than those kids, you know?” There was a deep, slow chuckle in his voice.

His stomach flipped when he heard the literal whimper that Clover let out as he pulled away. 

“So. Much. Worse.” He breathed with a shaky laugh.

“I mean, I’ve got to be, don’t I? I got the feeling pretty quickly that subtly was not going to work on you. I’ve _literally_ been begging you to kiss me for months now an-”

“I don’t think you’ve been subtle a day in your life, Mr. Ebi.”

“That’s beside the point!” He laughed, faking offense.

Clover noticed Qrow’s fingers drumming on the hilt of Harbinger amusedly, his eyebrows raised in mock judgement. He reached out and took Qrow’s hand, bringing it to his lips, just resting the long slender fingers there and feeling their calming pressure, as he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. 

“Are you sure there’s not someone who can go with you? The kids….” He hesitated.

As skilled and competent as Clover knew they were, it still felt weird suggesting that children go out into the field when he was already so worried about Qrow going. But it was the alone that worried him. 

He opened his eyes as he felt the pull of battle worn fingertips shift across his lips and cup his chin, tilting it up ever so slightly so that he met Qrow’s eyes again. 

“I will be _fine_ , Clover. This is literally my specialty. And believe it or not, I still have a few special skills that you aren’t yet aware of.” He smirked, flicking Clover’s cheek gently for emphasis. 

“Oh I believe it.” Clover said, his voice a little more...sultry than he meant it. 

They paused for a moment before both snorting with laughter. 

“Okay. Okay that came out more….” Clover sputtered, blushing slightly.

“Worse. You are so much worse.” Qrow said, still laughing. 

Clover just stared at him, dumbfounded; at how his eyes scrunched closed, how his nose turned up slightly, the strand of dark silver dusted hair that fell across his forehead, the tiny twitch in his lips.

Clover rushed forward again, kissing him sloppily, their teeth hitting as Qrow didn’t have time to stop laughing. And Clover, even one handed, managed to lift Qrow completely off the floor as he hummed into his lips happily. 

Qrow actually squealed quietly in surprise, only making Clover pause just as he was about to pull away and fall back in, it now being less of a kiss as they both couldn’t stop grinning stupidly. 

Qrow blinked, looking a little spacey, as Clover finally pulled away. 

Clover smirked down at the smaller man. 

“You know you like it.”

“....sweet brothers, I actually do. Why do I like it so much?” Qrow sighed, exasperated, as he let his head fall back.

He chuckled and shivered slightly as Clover pecked the bottom of his chin lightly. 

“What can I say, I’m a… bird magnet? No. Forget that one, that was bad… chick felt weird but that didn-”

Clover had to tighten his grip on Qrow, and set him back down to steady them both, as Qrow began to shake with waves of laughter. 

“Oh gods” He got through the laughter. “Y-yeah. Yeah, buddy. Not your best.” Qrow smiled up at Clover and wiped his eyes. 

“But I guess I’ll take it.” 

“I’m honored.” Clover smirked sarcastically.

“Shut it, before I change my mind.”

Clover reached up to push a strand of hair from Qrow’s eyes before ducking to kiss him quickly once more. And then he pulled away again to meet his eyes. That deep, endless rust that he was sure he’d never mind drowning in. 

They stayed like that for a moment, smiling at each other, chest to chest. 

Finally Qrow spoke, starting to pull away reluctantly. 

“I’ve _got_ to go, Cloves. I won’t be gone long, I promise.” 

He stared at Clover, seeing the unfamiliar glint of worry in that dazzling teal. 

“Clover.” He pushed.

Neither broke eye contact. Qrow leaned, in ghosting his lips against Clover’s.

“I promise.” Qrow whispered before pressing a slow, firm kiss to Clover’s lips. 

He pulled away again, backing away fully now, determined to make himself leave. 

“Besides, it’s been… quite a while since I went on a proper date. You don’t think I’d miss that dinner, do you?” 

The edges of Clover’s mouth scrunched up in a thin, flustered smile. Qrow noticed for the first time that Clover had the faintest dimples. How had he missed that before now? Why did he have to notice it now, right when he was forcing himself to leave?

“I’m counting on it, little bird.” He almost looked sheepish after he said it, and it seemed like he was about to open his mouth to take it back. 

“Now, funny enough; that one I actually don’t mind.” Qrow lulled, stifling a small laugh. He really was going to have to tell him soon. The joke was just too good. 

He finally turned to leave and he had just gripped the door handle when Clover, suddenly right behind him, placed his palm gently against the door, holding it shut. Then he leaned forward and seared the softest, warmest kiss to Qrow’s cheek. 

“Lucky number seven.” He breathed, pressing his cheek to Qrow’s momentarily, before pulling away quickly and sitting down in front of the stack of papers Marrow had left. 

Qrow took a moment, his brain having to stop stuttering and reboot quickly, before he turned to look back at Clover as he opened the door. 

“Clover Ebi. You are never, _ever_ , allowed to argue with me again about whether or not you play _fair_.” 

Clover just shrugged, not looking up from the paper in front of him, though Qrow could plainly see his smile, and the flush on his cheeks. 

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He quipped innocently.

“Whatever you say, Cloves. Whatever you say.” 

Qrow smiled fondly as he pulled the door shut behind him. 

He was a little disappointed in the fact that he’d be spending his night in his avian form, unable to bask in the feel of the pleasant, giddy, flush on his cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> So, a few of these felt kinda rushed but, you can tell which were the ones I was ABOUT. 
> 
> Also, I absolutely flipped when I started editing this. Because as I was writing I kept thinking 'I should check how many times they've kissed so far.' but decided to just write it and go back and edit extra ones out. 
> 
> And I go to edit. And, without counting, I had originally written exactly seven kisses??! A gift from the gods.
> 
> \----  
> Edit: Got to thinking that Clover's injury and recovery probably wasn't quite realistic, so tweaked a few things, though it's still likely not quite right.


End file.
